


Don't Be A Stranger

by thegingermidget



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Eve's sexual awakening, F/F, Pining, my take on what happens next, takes place immediately after season finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 17:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegingermidget/pseuds/thegingermidget
Summary: In the immediate aftermath of meeting Villanelle again, Eve moved on instinct and adrenaline. In the hours following, she was forced to do a bit more thinking. Where was she supposed to go from here? What is her next step? Or does she have to admit defeat in the wake of Carolyn's decision to shut down the department?And of course, Villanelle is never far from Eve's mind.





	Don't Be A Stranger

When Eve found the landlady instead of Villanelle she could hardly form words.

“Where?” came out in a grunt. She pushed past the old woman and ran down the hall, down the stairs, looking for blood stains, listening for cries. There was no way she could simply disappear. The woman had been stabbed. She was probably dying. 

And yet she found nothing, not a trace of her.

_You found me._ Villanelle had congratulated her mere minutes ago. Had she been mocking her? Knowing all along that she could vanish in an instant if she needed to?

The street outside was empty, horribly empty. There was no sign of Villanelle, no sign of anyone at all. Perhaps she should be grateful that no one was there to see her bloodied and wild. She might have been arrested.

Eve climbed the stairs back to Villanelle’s apartment. She looked around with eyes wild, ready to tear the place apart again. The landlady came back into the room with a broom in hand. She, unlike Eve, seemed largely unfazed by the blood-stained sheets, bullet holes, and the sticky mess covering Eve’s hands. She handed Eve the broom and eyed the shattered remains of champagne bottles on the floor. The broom felt solid in Eve’s hands even as her knees started to liquefy.

The landlady left her there, a decision that mystified Eve. To any sane person, Eve had just committed what amounted to assault at best and murder at worst. Eve couldn’t decide whether Madame Tattevin was one of those old women who had seen everything or was simply used to putting up with the by-blows of Villanelle’s violence. There was a young man who had died here not too long ago. It was undoubtedly the work of Villanelle and yet Tattevin still seemed to admire the woman.

Her hands stuck to the broom handle as the blood began to dry. Villanelle’s blood. It turned Eve’s stomach almost as much as Bill’s had. 

God, how had everything managed to get so fucked? 

It was the timing of everything that really got her, how her perfectly fine life had become a disaster in a few short weeks. And all because of Villanelle. The expert assassin had done a marvelous job of ruining her life, killing her in a sense. Because really, was there any way she could return to her flat and wake up tomorrow morning with Nico beside her. As if none of this awfulness had happened? As though she still had her comfortable if boring desk job with MI5 and had never heard the name Villanelle in her life?

Perhaps if Nico were speaking to her and had any idea what she had done (God, if he knew about any of this…) he would tell her frankly, that she was avoiding taking the blame for any of this. That most of this was her own doing if only she could have minded her own business for once in her life.

Eve put that uncharitable version of Nico out of her head. That Nico was the one she had met in the last few weeks when everything was starting to go a bit shit. 

She put the broom aside and went to the fridge, where there was still an untouched bottle of champagne or two left. Without much heart in her or ceremony, she tossed back a mouthful of bubbles. It managed to dribble onto her shirt, adding to the blackening blood stains. She felt the cold seep through her shirt and decided in an instant to be rid of it entirely. She stripped to her bra and went to sit down somewhere, anywhere and think.

Or better yet, not think. Her mind had done nothing but think since Villanelle had come back to this place and hadn’t stopped in the time since. It was thinking too much that had gotten her into this mess.

Another swig of champagne aided her attempt to stop herself from heading down that train of thought again. So many things had led her to this point, especially one thing that she could not bear to consider just now.

She sat down on the bed at first, but when her hand absently found its way to the crust of blood on the comforter she bolted from the room. The smell of it was in her nose now, but the sight of it was still something she couldn’t reconcile with.

The couch was a better option. She sat there shirtless, champagne bottle in her fist, and refused to even consider what had just happened one more time. 

The light outside started dim and cast long shadows in the room before she moved again. The champagne was gone and a haze had settled over her. Eve was starting to accept what she had done, but she had no idea what she was going to do about it.

Instead, she made a cup of tea or, started to before realizing that drinking a bottle of champagne gave her a tremendous need to pee. When she finished, she eyed the shower and thought that sounded like a marvelous idea. Then she got so caught up in trying to work out the shower that she forgot about the kettle rattling on the stovetop. 

When the streetlights down below began blazing in the night, Eve had finished her tea, had taken a bath, and was staring down Villanelle’s bed, stripped of everything but the mattress. The white comforter had absorbed most of the blood and the spotless sheets and pillows didn’t give Eve much pause. No, what troubled Eve now was the idea that she was going to sleep here tonight, in the lion’s den as it were. She didn’t have anywhere else to go and some small part of her hoped and dreaded that Villanelle might come back here at any moment. There was no reason to suspect that Villanelle was anywhere but dying in an alley somewhere nearby, but it felt foolish to assume she was dead without proof.

Eve gave up trying to figure out whether or not she should sleep in Villanelle’s bed, the bed where she was certain she was going to commit murder hours earlier. There was a tiredness that had seeped into her bones over the last few hours, the result of several months of hard work and anxiety. Perhaps murder should have made it difficult for her to sleep, but her conscience seemed to have no trouble putting it out of mind until morning.

The morning brought several hours of lazily rummaging through Villanelle’s apartment. First, she foraged for breakfast in the kitchen, settling on stale bread and jam accompanied by some very good coffee. After sweeping the glass from yesterday into a pile and disposing of it the best she could, Eve checked her phone for the first time in almost a day. She had held out hopes of finding a message from Nico or a message from Carolyn or Kenny but found instead a voicemail from Elena. 

“Where are you? Tell me you’re not in Paris. I wanted to go to Paris. It’s been almost 24 hours since I called you with that lead and I’ve been waiting here with my suitcase packed for you to call and tell me to meet you there. I might as well go on my own at this point. Call me back soon, like... yesterday.”

She didn’t feel guilty about leaving Elena out of the loop. Eve was glad that she hadn’t been here to get mixed up in yesterday’s events. Now that the excitement was over and it was time to move on, she wished Elena was here with her. Staring at the apartment around her, with little idea how to proceed, Eve made the decision to call her and told her to come.

She was glad when Elena answered. So glad, that she started speaking without introduction. “I’m in Paris and if you still want to be involved in this, you should get here soon.” 

Thankfully, Elena needed hardly a moment to catch on. “Carolyn came to the office this morning and said that she was shutting the whole department down. What happened?”

Eve couldn’t tell from her voice what Carolyn had told her or whether Elena’s view of Carolyn had been changed in the same way that Eve’s had. Her crush didn’t seem to have gone away, and how could Eve have expected Elena to feel differently? She had no idea just how dodgy Carolyn really was. (She didn’t suppose Elena would have too much of a problem with her being filthy...)

“I can’t explain on the phone, but I will when you get here- if you come here. I promise.”

She had no way of knowing if someone could listen in on their call. She wasn’t sure if anyone would want to, but just thinking about Carolyn Martens made her feel paranoid. Everything that had happened in Russia felt like a betrayal. 

Elena whispered when she next spoke. “Of course I’m coming. Are you-you're not at the address I sent you, right? I mean… you didn’t try to engage without back up, right?” Eve shifted in her seat on Villanelle’s couch. She had almost laughed at Elena’s official sounding ‘engage without back up’ but she was made uncomfortable by how easily Elena had guessed exactly what she had done.

“Just meet me at that address.”

“Oh my god you didn’t.”

Eve dithered about whether or not to tell her for a moment. “I did.”

There was a loud noise followed by a long silence on the other end. “Elena?” Eve asked, trying to see if she was still there.

“Right then,” said Elena. Her voice was pitched in a calm, business-like tone. Eve was reminded of the day they helped Frank escape Villanelle when Elena had wanted to seem brave in front of Carolyn as they recounted exactly what had happened. “I’ll catch the next train and see you in a few hours. It sounds like we have a lot to discuss.” She sounded like a sales representative, tense but cheery, in a way that made the whole thing sound false.

When she hung up, Eve felt a little bit lighter than she had since yesterday. Elena always tried to maintain a sense of order and purpose, even when she really had no idea what was going on. 

Before Elena arrived, Eve made herself eat again, tried on an outrageous pink dress from Villanelle’s wardrobe and contemplated taking another bath. Something about staying in this apartment made her feel dirty. She had gotten rid of the blood-stained sheets, past saving to her estimation. She had thrown out her shirt from yesterday too and sprayed the bedroom with a can with flowers on it from under the sink. The glass had been cleared away and the apartment looked in order, the way Villanelle had kept it.

She couldn’t help but see Villanelle in the various details of her apartment. The place seemed to have her etched in its walls, the image of a young woman living in a flat most people would die for. She was able to live on her own, be financially independent, and with money to spend on outrageous pieces of haute couture. For a girl who had grown up poor and imprisoned, this must have felt like a dream. 

Her smiling face was a ghost in the apartment. She could picture Villanelle taking a long soak in the tub, cooking in the small but well-equipped kitchen, running on the treadmill in the corner. Eve had spent months trying to get inside Villanelle’s head and now she was living in it. In some ways, it was exactly as she’d expected or rather hoped it would be. Every detail of the apartment added a new layer to her profile of Villanelle and each piece seemed to fit.

As she sat on the couch or stood by the window, she could almost feel Villanelle behind her. For each piece of information she gathered on her, more questions arose. Not questions she could pose to say, Elena or Kenny, but ones she had to keep in the quiet of her heart. Questions like, what would she do if she was here now? What would she think of me looking through her things? Did she ever imagine me here? Would she want me here? Would she stand behind me as I looked out over Paris? Is this her favorite brand of coffee? Does she like that chair? Would she kiss me now if I asked her to?

Eve had noticed, in the quiet hours had spent here, that the apartment seemed a bit lonely. The rooms were dark and empty without Villanelle to brighten them. Even then, Eve wondered if it was ever really possible to make this place feel like a home without someone else in it. You could leave the radio on in the living area and go to cook something in the kitchen and be met with an empty echo that carried from the bedroom and bathroom. You could go to sleep in the bedroom and leave a light on in the kitchen, but in the morning that light seemed swallowed up by shadows that pressed in during the night. It was a beautiful space, but Eve could imagine it as a lonely one, particularly upon remembering something Villanelle had said.

She kept getting flashbacks of yesterday. Bits and pieces of the event she had repressed in order to move forward. Upon considering the emptiness of the apartment, Eve remembered Villanelle telling her she just wanted someone to watch movies with. In all likelihood, it had been a play for Eve’s sympathy but like all of the best lies, perhaps there was some truth to it. 

There were knick-knacks throughout the apartment that didn’t seem to belong to a twenty-something living in Paris. They were very expensive for one thing, some of them original art pieces or vintage things. None of them seemed to match. When Eve considered it, none of the furniture in the apartment seemed to match. Villanelle was certainly well traveled and well paid for what she did. It seemed as though she had gathered items into her personal space that she liked, without a care as to whether or not they worked into a well-designed space.

At first, Eve couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of the life Villanelle led. She had known several girls at school who would have killed for a space like this in Paris, with money to do whatever they wanted. Eve reconsidered the phrasing of that thought. Perhaps they wouldn’t have killed if they knew the kind of killing Villanelle had to do in order to sustain this life. None of them would have had that in them. 

Then, as Eve found more and more details, expensive perfume bottles that Eve was careful not to smell; a collection of knives, some with ornate handles, others small and impossibly thin; a pile of fashion magazines; Eve began to feel some of the sympathy Villanelle had needed from her yesterday. All of the pieces of Villanelle’s apartment were not just a collection of things she loved, but a hoard of memories secreted away and with no meaning to anyone but her. She could tell that some of these were trophies, which fit into the typical psychological profile of a psychopath, but some of them were sentimental, a scrapbook of sorts displayed throughout her apartment. It seemed eclectic in appearance because it was so intimately, deeply personal.

And that started to make Eve uncomfortable. 

Elena arrived in the early afternoon. She hadn’t been kidding when she had said she would hop on the next train to Paris. Eve watched her from the balcony, noting the way she squinted at the building number and took a deep breath before heading inside. 

Having Elena in the apartment felt like a breath of fresh air. Eve had been alone with the ghost of Villanelle for far too long. She went out into the hall to meet Elena and to keep her from disturbing the landlady. Eve wasn’t sure what that woman would think of her still being here, but she didn’t care enough about what she thought to actually speak to her just yet.

Elena greeted her with a tight hug. While in Russia, Eve had hardly spared a thought for what Elena might be thinking. Nadia, Vlad, Konstantin, and Carolyn had all been much bigger and more present issues, but Eve could see that Elena had been worried for her. For all that she was happy to be in Paris now, much of Elena’s life had gone topside in the last few days. Perhaps the certainty that Eve found in Elena, Elena found in her.

“This place is incredible,” said Elena, gazing wide-eyed around the apartment. For a moment, Eve tried to picture Elena as the young woman who owned this apartment and killed to keep it. The two women were of an age, young and ambitious. What would any young woman do with an extravagant amount of money? When considering the number of assassinations Villanelle had committed in order to afford a place like this, the comparison fell apart. Elena was smart and capable, but she was no psychopath. Doing whatever it takes does come with limits for most people. 

“Yeah,” agreed Eve, because really it was a beautiful apartment. Villanelle had cultivated a style that was hard to ignore.

“I suppose assassins are paid pretty well.”

“Only if you’re as good as she is.”

Elena moved over to the open windows, admiring the view. “Well, it’s a shame they don’t tell you that in secondary school. Seems like an interesting career path.”

Eve was surprised that Elena hadn’t immediately jumped in with questions. She sensed that she was trying to be cautious. Ever since that day they rescued Frank, the subject of Villanelle made Elena nervous.

“I don’t suppose any else knows you’re here,” said Elena. It didn’t sound like a question. Elena wasn’t fully aware of their situation as it stood now, but she knew enough about Eve to know that she was probably doing something reckless in the name of a good cause. 

“No,” admitted Eve. “A lot has happened over the last few days. I’m not sure how much you know.”

“I know that Kenny got over his little crush on me in order to follow you and Carolyn out to Russia,” said Elena. “He left me a note for when I got in the next day. I didn’t mind holding down the fort,” she said, trying to assure Eve that she wasn’t upset. “It just would have been nice to have a job of some sort to do while everyone else was doing God knows what. I think I found this place out of sheer boredom.” 

Eve struggled to gather a few scraps of sympathy. “I’m glad you did. You… really nailed it with this find.”

“Yeah well…” Eve thought that if Carolyn had given her similar praise, Elena would have blushed. Instead, she gave a tired smile. “You’re the only one who seems to think so. Carolyn came into the office this morning, along with some moving men to dismantle the office. She said there was nothing more to investigate and that she was closing the department. Wouldn’t let me get a word in to tell her that I found where Villanelle lives.” 

Elena tossed herself down onto the couch and closed her eyes for a moment. Then, in an instant, she was on her feet again, looking down at the place she had sat, in horror. “Where is she, then?” asked Elena, her voice tight and nervous. 

“She was here. I spoke to her yesterday.” Eve tried to keep her voice neutral, but she found it so hard to keep emotion at bay where Villanelle was concerned.

Elena leveled a long look at her. From the look of it, she wasn’t sure if Eve had gone mad or not. She had known Eve for a few years now. She knew that Eve had always been a little odd, but she had never known Eve to put her life in such serious danger before and for what?

“I can’t believe you,” said Elena, when she finally spoke. “She could have killed you. I might kill you for being so- so stupid.”

“She didn’t kill me. I’m fine,” said Eve. She stepped closer intending to comfort Elena. “I knew she wouldn’t, we have a sort of connection.”

Elena shook her head and turned away from Eve’s arm that had tried to rest on her shoulder. “She’s a psychopath, Eve, and she’s killed so many people.” She struggled to reign in how angry she was at Eve, how worried she had been for her, and the part of her that was glad that Eve was alright. “She killed Bill, Eve. Bill Pargrave, our friend?” As if Eve could have forgotten. As if everything Eve had done yesterday hadn’t been for him.

“I remember,” said Eve. 

“Why then? Why couldn’t you have at least waited for me? Why didn’t you tell anyone where you were? At least then we would have known where to find the body.”

Eve wished that she could go back to the Elena who was hesitant to ask questions. She sat down on the couch, resting her elbows on her knees. She couldn’t be upset with Elena, her only ally and someone who cared about her. She couldn’t push another kind person away because of Villanelle. Instead, she took a deep breath, and gave Elena time to simmer as well, before she tried to explain herself.

“While I was in Russia, I learned a few things that made me distrust Carolyn. We were so close to Villanelle and The Twelve, but it was as if someone was able to predict our every move to keep us from getting too close.” She looked up at Elena, who hadn’t taken a seat next to her. “I know this makes me sound paranoid, but I found proof that Carolyn- at the very least- wasn’t telling us everything. Every time it felt like we were getting close to something, she told us to leave.” 

Elena watched Eve. The forced calm of Eve’s voice had made her listen and as Eve spoke her expression softened. 

Eve took a breath, this last part was something she still didn’t want to accept. “The last straw was something Kenny found yesterday or… two days ago?” Eve was finding it hard to remember now. “Before everything went to shit. I was sure that Villanelle had been the one to kill Nadia from inside the prison. He was combing through surveillance footage for me. And before you tell me it was paranoid to assume Villanelle had done it, Kenny found her, Villanelle inside the prison, along with something else. The surveillance footage showed that Carolyn met with Villanelle while she was in prison.”

Elena’s eyes widened but she said nothing. Perhaps she was in shock. Still, the lack of reaction made Eve irrationally upset.

“She knew where Villanelle was the entire time and she said nothing! I knew she was too friendly with Konstantin, they were trying to stop us from the beginning-”

“So why let us investigate at all?” asked Elena. Her voice was calm and serious in contrast to Eve’s excitement. She hadn’t discounted anything Eve had said but was taking this one step at a time. 

Eve hadn’t given this line of reasoning much thought. She had spent the last day trying to sort through everything and keeping herself from sorting through everything. The events of the last month had all come to a head, she had stabbed someone, and frankly being alive and completely on her own had been the focus of most of her thoughts in the last twenty-four hours. 

“I don’t know,” admitted Eve at last. “To see what we could find? So that they could learn how to keep their secret organization even more secret? To play with us?” She shook her head. “I don’t know, but aside from waterboarding Carolyn Martens, I still think that Villanelle is our best lead to finding The Twelve.”

“You still want to catch them?” Elena asked.

“Of course.” It really wasn’t a question for Eve anymore. She had to and was starting to believe that she was really the only one who could. And maybe that was as it should be. The investigation had already torn up Eve’s life. Why should anyone else have to suffer the same? She had gotten this far, this close, perhaps she was all they needed. “I’ve- We’ve gotten so close, it’s taken everything but I think there’s a chance we could get to them.”

Elena worried at her lip. “How do you plan on doing that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Eve!” Elena groaned and stood up, exasperated. “What if this is your chance to back out? To go back to a safe job and your perfectly fine life and just… let it go?”

“I can’t do that.”

Elena didn’t seem surprised by that answer. She flopped down on the couch beside Eve. “Yes, but why?”

“What choice do I have?” said Eve. “I don’t have a life to go back to anymore, not the way you do. I haven’t spoken to Nico in days and the last time I saw him I hit him. I actually hit him. There’s a chance he might take me back after that, but I don’t know if I want him to. For all that this investigation has royally fucked up my life, I think it proved that I am not good for him.”

Elena’s eyes turned down. “I didn’t know all of that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Eve thought she sounded fine, her voice even and unwavering. She blinked tears away from her eyes but felt alright, really. “For all that these last few months have broken me,” Eve added with a laugh. “I have never felt more alive. I had a purpose, Elena. I was going to do some good. And I think I still can.”

“You’re going to need help,” said Elena, surprising Eve. “I think you’ve proven that. For all that you’re weirdly good at analyzing psychopaths, you desperately need back-up.”

“I don’t need to drag you into this any more than you already have been. Carolyn gave you an out and I think you should take it.”

“I didn’t just mean me. Kenny’s said he’ll help too. I don’t know what his motivation is. With his skills, he could get a job anywhere. Probably doesn’t need a job, he could hack into a bank or something and steal all the money he needs.” Elena rambled on a bit, trying in her own way to diffuse the tension. 

“He probably wants to find out what his mom is really up to…” Elena cocked her head slightly, not following. Eve’s eyes widened. “Oh god, you don’t know. Carolyn is Kenny’s mom.”

Elena threw her head back. “No… no, no, no, no, no…” She looked back at Eve. “Is she really? God, they do look a bit alike, don’t they? So he left me in London in order to follow mummy out to Russia?” Elena closed her eyes and then nodded. “Alright, I’ve come to terms with it.” Her expression soured. She shook her head slightly, bouncing her curls. “Ok, for real this time. Ugh,” She moaned, sounding as though she was about to go back on her acceptance of the fact for a third time. “I’m pretty sure I told him his mum was hot once.”

“What?”

“I was trying to let him know that I was uninterested without actually telling him I wasn’t interested. God that must have been awkward.”

Eve nodded. “I’m sure he’s gotten over it.”

“Do you think that gave him hope? That maybe I’d find him attractive too?”

“I honestly have no idea,” said Eve. She had gotten Elena into a better mood. Now she supposed, it was time to turn back to more serious matters. “I still haven’t told you exactly what happened yesterday. When I first got here.”

“I got the sense that you really didn’t want to tell me,” said Elena. 

That was both true and untrue. She had wanted to tell Elena but hadn’t known exactly what to say. How could she make Elena understand what she had done when she hardly understood it herself?

“Walk me through what you know,” Eve started. “I want to make sure you understand.”

Elena did so, talking first about Eve and Carolyn in Russia to talk to Nadia, then about how they met Vlad and Konstantin, and then Nadia’s murder and Kenny going to help. She knew the general outline of things, but it came as a complete shock to her when Eve told her that Carolyn had been romantically involved with both Vlad and Konstantin, that Villanelle had kidnapped Konstantin’s daughter, and that Konstantin had been killed.

“And even after watching her murder someone in front of you, you still came here to meet her in person? God, I knew you were obsessed, Eve, but that’s insane.” It seemed Elena wasn’t going to get over that particular hang-up anytime soon.

“There’s more to it than… an obsession.” She hated to call it that, what she felt towards Villanelle wasn’t an obsession. Eve wasn’t sure what to call it, but there was far more emotion involved than the word ‘obsession’ implied. “It wasn’t entirely clear to me at the time,” Eve spoke carefully, recounting it out loud for the first time and wanting to get it right. “When I was at the airport in Moscow and decided to fly to Paris instead. I was… angry and tired. Maybe I thought I could end things somehow if I just got close enough to her.”

She tried not to notice the concerned look in Elena’s eyes. She had to get through telling her side of the story.

“I came to Paris. I spoke to the landlady who I believe is spying on Villanelle for… someone. It was hard to decipher her French. Then I came in here and I…” Eve wasn’t sure she wanted to admit to the destruction she wrought on this beautiful apartment. “I looked around for a bit, kind of in shock and then she was there. We talked. I had a gun on her until… until I didn’t. We laid down on the bed in there.” Eve pointed to the bedroom. “And talked a bit more. I think she was going to kiss me, but then I pulled out a knife.”

Elena’s face had gone slack. “A knife?”

“I wanted to make her pay for what she had done to Bill, to Frank, to Konstantin, to his daughter, to... Anna, as I learned yesterday, to all those other people she has killed whether they deserved it or not. She doesn’t get to just… not feel anything. She doesn’t get to not deal with the consequences.”

“What did you do, Eve?”

This was hard. Eve bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t regret what she had done, not exactly, and maybe the worst part was knowing that she should. The sound of Villanelle’s whimper as the knife sank into her stomach echoed in her head. She wiped her hands against the leather of the couch as if the blood had somehow returned. I really liked you.

“Eve?”

“I stabbed her.” As soon as it was said, Eve thought of a million ways to qualify it. She could say she had stabbed Villanelle because Villanelle had stabbed Bill. Or that she had done it to stop Villanelle from hurting anyone ever again. Or she had done it to incapacitate her while she called the authorities. Or she had done it to protect herself.

None of those excuses came close to the truth. Perhaps they all played a role in why she had done it, but none were the whole truth. 

Elena looked understandably alarmed, but it some small way she also seemed… relieved? “You stabbed her? With a knife? You tried to kill her with your bare hands?”

“There’s not many other ways to stab someone with a knife.” The joke sounded hollow even to her ears. “I don’t really have an explanation for why I did it. It was… wrong, I know.”

“Are you kidding me?” Eve turned to look at Elena, not sure what she meant by that. “I was worried you’d gone off the deep end. You seemed so in love with this maniac, I thought you’d somehow forgotten how dangerous she was.” Elena leaned forward to take Eve’s hand. “You did what needed to be done, Eve. I know it must have been awful, but maybe you were the only one who could do it. That’s kind of badass.”

She felt a blush rise in her cheeks and hoped that to Elena, it looked as though she was being humbled by her praise. Eve knew that wasn’t the case. Stabbing Villanelle was something that had had to be done, but that didn’t mean she didn’t regret it. For one moment, she had seen Villanelle without any sort of pretense. She had seen a scared young woman who had been betrayed by someone she had trusted. Who knew how many people she had let get close to her like that? And of that small number of people, how many had had the potential to hurt her the way Eve did?

The initial act, the moment where blade pushed past the initial resistance of flesh had felt right. As though it was the only recourse against someone who otherwise couldn’t be touched. There was even a small moment where Eve had thought she had seen respect in Villanelle’s eyes. As though, in that moment, she finally saw Eve as someone equal to her. Then Villanelle screamed.

By the time their conversation winded down and Elena was fully briefed on everything that had happened, the sun was setting spectacularly over Paris and Eve’s stomach growled. Elena suggested they go out to eat, trying to get Eve out of the apartment for the first time in over a day. Eve was surprised by her own reluctance to leave. While Elena cleaned herself up in the bathroom and fawned over Villanelle’s wardrobe, Eve went down the hall to the landlady. She knew she needed to explain herself to the woman at some point and it was best to bite the bullet.

Once again, Eve found herself surprised by the woman’s attitude toward the situation. She didn’t seem to care what Eve or anyone else did in the apartment. Villanelle’s apartment was paid for in advance for an unusually long amount of time. 

“I know that girl gets up to some… _affaires louche_ , but I like her.” The old woman’s face held a wistful smile. “There have been more than a few strange things that have happened since she has moved in, but she pays her rent, she takes care of the apartment, and she brings a breath of fresh air to the place, so I put up with her.”

Madame Tattevin’s sympathy for Villanelle felt strangely similar to her own. Part of her wished she could just be a curious outsider to Villanelle’s life. Instead, she was caught in the crossfire. 

“I’m going to stay in the apartment,” said Eve, coming to the decision even as she said it. “I am going to wait for her to come back. I have some questions for her.” She tried her best to speak decisively so that the woman found herself unable to refuse her.

“Okay,” was all the old woman had to say. “Don’t be surprised if it takes a few months for her to come back. As long as you do not make too much noise and do not make a mess. I do not mind. A couple of euros for me would put my mind even more at ease, but you can do what you like.”

“Thank you,” said Eve. The woman’s proposal sounded inordinately generous. “I’ll see what I can do about a couple of euros. Is it alright if I bring visitors to the apartment?”

“ _Ça marche_ ,” muttered the woman. She said a quick ‘ _au revoir_ ’ before closing the door to her apartment. Eve wondered if Villanelle liked her landlady in the same way that her landlady seemed to like her. Tettevin was odd but nice enough and nosy in the way that some old women are. 

Elena and Eve found a restaurant about a half mile away with locals chatting away at the bar and a few open tables waiting outside for the two of them to have dinner. Elena surprised Eve with her very good French. She ordered for the two of them and had a short conversation with their waiter. Eve thought she looked very good like this, happy and carefree, relaxed and softly lit by rosy streetlights. 

Before Villanelle, Eve had never questioned her sexuality, but when she took a moment to think about it she had always just accepted that she found some women beautiful. Elena was beautiful, but Eve had never thought that realizing, accepting, and appreciating that beauty might mean she was attracted to women. With Elena, she tried to imagine a relationship with a woman who didn’t want to kill her, someone nice and smart and funny. She found she liked the idea and could see it as a reality nearly as clear as her other romantic relationships. Perhaps she could have married the right imaginary woman. 

There was something lacking, however, in each of these scenarios. Distantly, she saw the potential for each of them to end up as her relationship with Nico had ended. Happily married, but unfulfilled. Eve had been happy with Nico, for a time. She had loved him and he had loved her and that had been enough. Until it wasn’t and Eve realized that they didn’t want the same things. Eve needed to be tested and challenged and Nico didn’t. 

She wondered, vaguely, if there was anyone who could fill that role, or perhaps she wasn’t meant for marriage at all.

When their food arrived, Eve pushed these thoughts from her mind. Food on an empty stomach was a good distraction for unwanted musings. 

“Kenny is coming tomorrow,” said Elena. Eve tried not to choke on her soup.

“Really? I’m impressed.” In Moscow, Kenny hadn’t been ready to disobey his mother. Perhaps Eve’s rebellion had inspired him.

“He said he needed a day to get ready and make sure his mum wouldn’t be able to follow him.”

Considering Carolyn’s connections, Eve was surprised he hadn’t needed a week. “Is he sure he won’t be followed? I’m not sure there’s anything that woman couldn’t find out if she wanted to.”

“Maybe there isn’t a way to hide from her altogether,” said Elena. “Maybe she already knows where we are.”

Neither of them said very much for a while. Being reminded of how fantastically out of their depth they were put them both in a somber mood. Carolyn had always seemed to know more than they did. Now for the first time, that felt like a threat. Their soup was taken away and their entrees had arrived before Elena decided to speak again.

“So you plan on staying Villanelle’s apartment, for now? Isn’t that a bit weird?”

“Nothing about this is conventional. I think it’s our only lead in trying to find her again. I don’t think she’d come back there, knowing that we were waiting for her, but there might be something there that could tell us where she went.” Eve took a bite of her fish. “And there’s a chance she might need something from her apartment or might try to evict us out of anger…”

“And on top of that, you get to stay in a cool flat in Paris.”

“You can stay there too,” said Eve. “There’s enough room for two.”

Elena wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I could. It’s amazing, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also very… Villanelle. I can just picture her around every corner. It feels wrong, you know? Intimate.”

Eve had gotten a similar sense after spending the whole day there, like she was reading Villanelle’s diary or going through her underwear drawer. She hadn’t minded it though and she had gotten used to it fairly early on. That thing she couldn’t name that intrigued her about Villanelle, was all over that apartment. For months she had been trying to get inside Villanelle’s head and this felt like the closest she could ever get to truly understanding her. 

“Yeah, I get that,” said Eve. “So what are you going to do?”

“Get a hotel room, probably. Just for a few days and then I’ll head back to London. We’ll regroup, figure out what to do next. Maybe Kenny and I can trade off shifts watching over you.”

“That’s not necessary-”

“It’s absolutely necessary. I’m not leaving you on your own and I’m sure Kenny will agree with me. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re completely on our own here. You need all the help you can get.”

The waiter came to take their plates away. Eve checked the time on her phone and saw that it was nearly midnight. She hadn’t thought they had ordered dessert, but in a few minutes, the same waiter returned with chocolate gateau instead of the check. Eve wasn’t going to be able to escape the table any time soon, so she sighed and stabbed the cake with her fork.

“Thank you,” Eve said, reluctantly. She meant it wholeheartedly. Elena’s fervent loyalty and protectiveness were touching, even if it also had a tendency to be cumbersome. She to a forkful of gateau and closed her eyes. “Oh my god, this is so good.”

Ever prepared, Elena had already booked a hotel room for the next week, one metro stop away from Villanelle’s flat. It took some convincing, but around two in the morning, Eve finally managed to get her to leave. 

When the apartment was hers again, Eve felt how empty it really was. Her own home was often messy and chaotic, with things to trip over if you didn’t watch your step. It was tidy enough, but there was a definite sense that the place was lived in. Villanelle’s apartment had some of that. There were plenty of perfume bottles lining the shelves of the bathroom, makeup that Eve had collected off of the floor and put back onto the vanity, her wardrobe was disorganized, but virtually everything in the room was functional. 

She remembered what the landlady had said, about Villanelle being gone for long periods of time. This apartment was Villanelle’s home, a place where she felt safe, but one that she didn’t always get to spend time in. Eve had liked traveling when she was younger, the few times she had gotten to do it. She had always felt like she was expected to feel more homesick than she did. Still, the first night back in her own bed had always felt good. 

Villanelle would come back to this place, even if it was just to see Eve again. 

Eve undressed to go to bed, feeling too tired to put on clothes to sleep. She had the entire place to herself and putting on clothes for no one seemed silly when all she wanted to do was get in bed. She had no reservations about getting in Villanelle’s bed tonight. Upon entering the place again tonight, she revisited that fantasy she had about what it would be like to be Villanelle. She imagined what it would be like to live in this apartment, envisioning herself coming home from a mission tired but satisfied.

She sat on the bed and pulled her hair out of its bun. Today had been the first time in a while she had worn it that way. Her imagination continued as she stared out the window instead of going to bed. Her thoughts were only interrupted by her ringtone. She had decided to keep it on and next to her bed after missing Elena’s last call. It was one of the conditions Eve had agreed to in order to get Elena to leave the apartment tonight.

The call came from an unknown number and Eve declined the call. Telemarketers never seemed to sleep. If by some chance it was someone important, they could leave a message.

The sound had interrupted her train of thought and by now, Eve was determined to go to bed. She turned off the light and pulled the comforter over herself, waiting for her body heat to warm the blankets. Then the phone rang again.

The blankets slipped off her shoulders as she reached over to the nightstand and checked her phone. The same number appeared on the screen, indicating that whoever this was knew who they were calling and wanted an answer. Eve was tempted to ignore the call again and finally get to sleep, but then grew curious. Whoever this was would call again if she ignored them a second time. An idea started to grow in Eve’s mind. She tried not to let herself grow hopeful.

In the dark bedroom of Villanelle’s apartment, Eve answered her phone. 

“Hello?”

“Goodnight, Eve.”

“Who is this?”

There was no answer after that beyond a noise made with the mouth. A short click close to the receiver that sounded like a kiss. A short tone told her that the call had been disconnected. Eve walked over to the window. Across the way, a light went out in one of the apartments, one of the few still lit. 

Her second response had come from a place of disbelief. She had known immediately who had called her. Her mouth had needed a moment to realize it. 

Villanelle had called to say good night. She was still nearby, Eve realized. She could probably see her and had waited until she was alone to call. 

Eve went to her suitcase to pull out an old t-shirt and put it on, feeling exposed suddenly. She was also relieved in a way, to have confirmation that she hadn’t taken Villanelle’s life. 

Their connection hadn’t been broken just yet. Both of them needed time to regroup, but a future meeting seemed inevitable now. 

Eve went back into the bedroom, refusing to let Villanelle scare her. She had no idea if Villanelle could still see her, but she made a rude gesture from the window in the hopes that she might still be watching. 

She wondered if Villanelle had masturbated to the thought of her tonight. Had she touched herself while watching Eve from wherever she was hidden? Or had Eve ruined that fantasy for her by stabbing her? Or would that entice a psychopath even more?

She went to sleep comforted somehow, by the knowledge that she wasn’t entirely without purpose. Villanelle was still out there and she was still a player in this game. They would meet again someday and Eve would find The Twelve. She couldn’t help but feel confident.

In the quiet hours still left before sunrise, Eve thought only of Villanelle. Elena would call it an obsession and Eve still didn’t have a better word for it. She had spent many nights like this and Villanelle had a recurring role in many of her dreams lately. Tonight, she didn’t have to wonder if Villanelle was thinking of her. She knew.

**Author's Note:**

> There! One week and three rewatches later I've finally gotten this where I want it. I started writing this the night I finished the season finale and it sort of mutated into a sort of vignette on where I think Eve is at after her confrontation with Villanelle. The lack of fanfic out there for Killing Eve is appalling, so I knew that at some point I was going to try to fill that void. I hope you enjoyed my attempt!
> 
> Maybe follow me on tumblr [@keep-on-leggin](https://keep-on-leggin.tumblr.com/)? I would love to talk about this show!


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